Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
by Breeze2
Summary: Lord Bern smiled, 'I came thus far with my six fellows, loved a girl of the islands, and felt I had had enough of the sea.' A story of chance, divided loyalties and the sea ...
1. Reality

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Chapter One - Reality

Chance is a fickle thing. There are some who say that it does not exist and that everything happens for a reason. They say that there is a purpose behind every word, every action, and every event that occurs. Those who say such things tend to have one thing in common. Faith. Whether it is in God or some power beyond the understanding of men – they believe that things are meant to happen as they do.

Perhaps they are right.

It certainly might have been fate that brought one Telmarine lord to be walking along the southern-most beach of Doorn one balmy spring afternoon. But then, it might also have been chance that caused a tired, angry young woman of the Lone Islands to sprint to that same beach, her dress dirtied from the sand and her feet bare, on that very same afternoon.

Whether it will prove to be chance or the moving of fate that caused this meeting to take place, I will leave the reader to decide. But a truth that cannot be denied is that neither individual left that beach as they had come to it that day. Something altered within them both, a change that was never to be undone …

0 0 0

The waves roared, drowning out every other sound. Oblivious to everything but his task, the young boy worked meticulously, crafting the walls and leveling the turrets of his fort. It was to be the finest castle in the world, impenetrable to all attack and fortified against any weapon. He carefully wetted the sides, strengthening the sand that formed the walls and packing it tightly together. He was just beginning to dig a deep moat for added defenses when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye.

Slowly, he turned around and saw the flutter of material that had caught his attention. It was the skirt of a dress, and one that he knew very well.

Without thought, he launched himself at the young woman, burying his face in her skirt as he hugged her around the legs. She laughed. A high, delighted sound that filled his heart with joy at he glanced up at that beloved face. Eagerly, he raised his arms to her, knowing that she would not deny him and was soon lifted into her embrace. Happily, he put his arms around her neck, burying his face in the soft waves of brown hair. He loved the floral scent that seemed to cling to her skin, it was comforting and warm against his sandy face.

Again she laughed, leaning down to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

She instantly recoiled though, spitting the sand from her mouth. He watched her anxiously, fearing a scolding or something worse.

Her response was one of both amusement and gentle remonstrance as she looked at him.

"Haven't I told you about eating sand, Littley?" she asked, wagging a playful finger at him. "Your face is covered! How am I supposed to find an inch of cheek to kiss if you insist upon coating it with sand or mud?" The boy smiled back at her, throwing his arms about her neck in place of a reply.

Unable to scold, she found herself returning the embrace, rocking him gently back and forth as she did so. Eventually though, she lowered him to the ground, kneeling to look into his face.

"Why are you here, Simeon?" she asked, softly taking the lad's hands in her own. "Aren't you supposed to be weapon training with Master Anfull?" Before her eyes, the boy's face crumpled and he looked down, nodding to his feet. She bit her lip and carefully raised his chin. "Did you run away again?" Unable to stop himself, the boy started to cry. Tears stained his dirty cheeks, wetting the sand as they fell.

Tenderly, she gathered him in her arms, simply holding him as she let the tears run their course. The boy clung to her like a limpet, burying his head in the soft material of her dress as he cried. In response, she stroked his hair, allowing him to weep.

It was only after his sobs had died down that she spoke, still rocking him as she did so.

"You are going to be such a brave warrior, one day," she said. "You may be little now, but just you wait until you grow, Simeon. You will be the greatest swordsman of Narrowhaven. I can see it; I see it in you every day."

Slowly, he raised his head from her shoulder, turning to look at her. "Do you really mean it?" It was the first time that he had spoken, and she took the opportunity to wipe the sand from his dirty cheeks.

"Of course I mean it," she stated, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think it was true, would I?"

The little boy continued to stare at her with clear disbelief. "Do you really think I could beat Straven with a sword?"

She looked at him seriously. "I believe that you could beat anyone, Simeon. The only reason that Straven and the rest of those bullies pick on you is because you are so small. They're afraid of the warrior that you will become when you grow up to be like your father and Marcus." Simeon stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide with uncertainty. She saw this disbelief and took his face in her hands once more. "I believe this as strongly as I believe that the sun will rise tomorrow, Simeon. You are the son of Lord Sedrydon and you will grow to become a great warrior of the Lone Islands. But you need to believe it as well, Littley. I can't be the only one believing it, or it simply won't come true."

Simeon swallowed hard and forced himself to nod as he looked at her.

"I want to be brave," he said, "but it's just …" He looked down, his lip starting to quiver once more. "When we're alone and Master Anfull isn't around … they say things, Mirium. Straven says I'm a mouse. He says that I'll always run away to hide when Father's enemies come. He says that I'm always crying."

"Well he's wrong, isn't he?" Mirium stated; her voice firm. "You're not a mouse, Simeon. Haven't you ridden Ollendo? Don't you remember wanting to ride your Father's new stallion when the rest of the boys were frightened by the idea?"

He stared at her doubtfully. "Straven says that horses have no place in real sword play, he says that they are just symbolic and of no use in the Lone Islands."

"Do you really place Straven's opinion above that of your Papa?" Mirium asked, incredulous. "Do you think that your Father would have bought Ollendo for mere ceremonial purposes? Or do you think that Straven might just be jealous that you had the courage to ride a stallion when he shrank away in fear of it?" Simeon continued to watch Mirium, his expression still uncertain. But then slowly, she saw a gradual change in his expression. His face started to lighten, and eventually, he was smiling at her.

He finally believed her. "Do you really think so?"

Mirium laughed. "I know so, Littley, and I wish you would as well."

Simeon dimpled at her before returning his attention to his fortress. He gestured to it grandly,

"I've called it Sedrydon Tower after, Father," he announced proudly before crouching down to smooth a wall.

With a gentle smile, Mirium watched him start to construct the outer battlements of the fortress. She marveled at how this talkative, exuberant little boy would instantly close up when confronted by other people. Right now, he was happy and carefree, building his fortress and thinking of little else. Uneasily, she glanced up the beach towards the sloping sand-dunes. Behind them a beech wood towered, blocking all else from view. First would come the meadow, then the paddocks and finally a handsome grey stone house and extensive stables – the epicenter of the Beecham estate.

It was a beautiful, picturesque setting, and one from which they both longed to escape.

Almost angrily, Mirium knelt by Simeon's castle, seeking to banish such thoughts in the exertion of constructing her own tower. For a time, it worked. She crafted a simpler, rounder structure and was just smoothing the top and falling back into a better humour when Simeon jumped up with a cry and ran off.

A single glance was enough to confirm her suspicions.

Simeon ran eagerly towards the approaching figure of the young knight, his arms spread wide and his face gleeful. In response, the young man's solemn expression brightened into a smile, his handsome features lighting up. Mirium rose, biting back her lip as she held back a grin. There was something so infectious and natural in Simeon's innocent joy at seeing a friend that he made it impossible to resist responding with that same enthusiasm. As if in the proving of her point, Simeon was swung up and on to the young man's shoulders before she was able to blink.

Slowly, she rose and made an attempt to wipe the worst of the sand from her already stained gown. It made little difference. She was soon joined by them. Her attempts to save her skirt earning an amused glance from the young man.

One look at his face was enough to assure her of his purpose in coming. "Let me guess," she murmured, "Aunt Lorelei is looking for me."

"You did promise to remain within the manor, Miri," her brother stated, wiggling his shoulders to make Simeon giggle.

Mirium kicked moodily at her tower. "I tried, I really did," she stated. "I can't do it, Sedryn. I have tried, honestly. Time and time again I have sat in that parlour, listening to her correct my posture, my tone of voice, my walk, my movement when dancing, my singing … even the way I hold the harp. But it is never enough for her. I will never be as graceful as Rhillayn or as delicate as Nyra. It's a pointless exercise."

"Couldn't you have least tried to keep your gown clean?"

They both glanced down at the sandy dress. Mirium sighed. "If she allowed me to wear breaches and a shirt then this would never have happened. I know how to move in those clothes."

"Mirium you know they aren't acceptable. She's trying to train you to be a lady."

"Well what if I don't want to marry a lord? What if I wish to remain unmarried all my life and make a living as a harpist?"

Unable to help himself, Sedryn grinned. "I know you would love that, as would I. But Miri, we have to think seriously about our future and you know I can't come into father's land until I reach maturity."

"But that won't be for four years, Sed. I'm struggling to survive in this house and it's only been six months. I want to return to Avra. I understand life there."

Sedryn frowned. "Well we can't, and you know why."

Mirium sighed, her anger leaving her as suddenly as it had come. Slowly she folded her arms, as though trying to hold herself together. She pushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "I'm sorry, Sed," she murmured, her voice low. "I just … I get frustrated. I'll never be what Aunt Lorelei wants me to be. I know she means well, but Rhillayan and Nyra are so far ahead of me. It's just exasperating. I feel utterly clumsy and ridiculous and Rhillayan has this aggravating way of looking at me over her sewing. She puts her nose slightly in the air and raises those stupidly pale eye brows of hers just slightly as though to say 'did you really just do that'?" Mirium rolled her eyes. "Though you know of course she's not _indelicate_ enough to speak such things out loud, at least not in front of her Mama."

Simeon giggled. Mirium glanced up at him fondly. "What did I say to make you laugh Littley?" she asked.

"Rhillayn does do that," he declared gleefully. "She sticks her nose as high as she can in the air. Marcus says that it might stay that way if she's not careful!"

They both laughed at this image of their cousin, only stopping when they heard the blast of a hunting horn, long and clear in the morning air.

Sedryn glanced over his shoulder. "That's the call to training," he muttered, "I have to go, as might I add do both of you." Very gently, he slid Simeon off his shoulders and placed him on the sand. "Come on Simeon, I'll drop you off with Master Anfull before heading to the training ground."

Simeon's face fell slightly, though he nodded without protest.

Mirium groaned. "Back to crochet and dancing lessons," she grumbled, stomping up the beach in as unladylike a way as she could manage.

Her brother could not help snorting. "You'd best change your dress, Miri, that one is quite spoilt."

Mirium sighed. "Aunt Lorelei will notice. She knows I was wearing this one at breakfast."

"Well you shall just have to be honest." With an unhappy nod, she left them at the beech trees and headed slowly back in the direction of Beecham Manor.

0 0 0

Lady Lorelei of Beecham kept losing count of her stitches. She was attempting to finish a shirt for her son Marcus, but despite her best efforts kept being distracted by one thing or another. In frustration, she once again checked the stitches she had done per square for the border and copied the previous style of the pattern.

She was just managing to fall back into a pattern when –

"Mama!" glancing up, she saw that her eldest daughter was now positioned at the window.

"What is it Rhillayn?" she replied tiredly, finishing a square.

"I can see Mirium coming across the lawn."

"There is no law against her strolling in the garden Rhillayn. Although I did think she was going to remain within the house today."

"But Mama since when has the garden caused her gown to become covered in sand? Her hair is all over the place! Unless I am much mistaken she has been at the beach _again_."

The smugness with which Rhillayn finished this last statement struck Lorelei as she regarded her daughter. Although Rhillayn was every inch the young lady, she was developing a habit for superiority that was not attractive.

"Kindly remove that smirk from your face, Rhillayn. It does not do well to triumph over others' faults."

Her daughter flushed deeply at this chastisement and lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry Mama. It just feels as though Mirium is deliberately seeking to thwart every attempt you make to improve her. I was thinking that she might succeed in her wish to never marry."

"That is nonsense Rhillayn! Of course she wishes to be married, every girl does."

Suddenly a voice spoke from the corner and Lorelei remembered the presence of her second daughter. "She finds it hard, Mama. Miri was brought up in a very different way to how we were. I think life is very different of Avra, she has told me much about it."

"Be that as it may, Nyra. Your cousin must learn the etiquette of a highborn lady if she expects to attract a suitable husband."

"She truly is trying," Nyra defended Mirium. "I think she struggles with how far she is behind Rhillayn and myself."

"Well she must learn," Lorelei replied, rising at the sound of the front door being opened.

She moved to call from the doorway. "Mirium, would you be so good as to come in here?"

Sympathetically Nyra watched her cousin enter the parlour and stand before her aunt in the way one might expect a prisoner to stand before the judge. Rhillayn had certainly been right about the sand. The soft blue of Mirium's gown was streaked with mud and sand across the bottom of the skirt. Her wavy hair had escaped from its braids and now hung in a wind-swept tangle down her back.

"Do you recall the promise that you made me this morning, Mirirum?" Her mother's voice was emotionless.

Her cousin stared at the floor. "Yes, aunt."

"And did you keep that promise?"

"No."

"So are you telling me that your word is worth nothing?"

For the first time, Mirium looked up imploringly at her aunt. "I did not mean to break my promise, honestly Aunt Lorelei. But I was desperate to see the sea today. Have you not seen the sunlight? When we had such days on Avra, Sedryn and I would spend whole days riding our horses along the beach or helping Papa in the orchard. It just seemed such a waste to spend the day in the house when I could be out making the most of it."

"Were you with Simeon again?" Rhillayn demanded, staring intensely at her cousin.

"Rhillayn hold your tongue, why on earth would Mirium be with Simeon?"

"Because I have seen her with him at least four times now Mama. She takes him to the beach and distracts him from weapons training with Master Anfull."

"I do not distract Rhillayn; I actually go to cheer him up after he is picked on by older boys. He's too scared to go to anyone else if you must know."

"Girls, be silent this moment! Rhillayn I would have expected better of you than to throw allegations at others without any proof. As for you Mirium, the training of my youngest son is none of your concern and I would ask you to refrain from taking him to the beach. Remember, that a young lady of breeding _never_ raises her voice. I hereby ban you from visiting the beach at all until you have proven to me that you can conduct yourself in a ladylike manner. Now I want you both to apologise."

Reluctantly, Rhillayn and Mirium said sorry, before she was bidden to depart and change her gown.

Angrily Mirium left the parlour and dragged her way up the stairs, wishing with all her might that she could escape from this place. In the privacy of her room, she allowed herself a rare moment of self indulgence and drew out her harp. It was one practice from her past life that her aunt entirely approved of, although her choice of song might occasionally be seen as indelicate.

But now, she chose a tune that she sung but rarely. It was a lullaby, sung by a young mother who was easing her child to sleep while her husband was away at sea. The lyrics spokes of the danger of the father's work, but also of the warmth and safety of the child's bed – a strange contract that proved oddly comforting to the listener. It was a hauntingly beautiful song and one of her only memories of her mother.

Quietly she played the familiar tune and sung the song to herself, allowing memory to enfold her as she was carried back through the years to a time when she was young. In her mind's eye she saw the gentle face of her mother and heard the lilt of her voice as the melody carried her away.

Silently a tear rolled down her cheek and fell lightly on to the blue of her gown, darkening the soft blue to a darker.

_Hush my babe, my little one,  
Thy father sails the deep,  
But warm thy bed is pretty one,  
lie still my dear and sleep._

Cold the wind is blowing  
Angry is the sea,  
Guard ye saints his going ,  
And bring him back to me.

_Hush my babe, my little one,  
Thy father sails the deep,  
But warm thy bed is pretty one,  
lie still my dear and sleep.  
_

_When the morn shall break again,_

_Overhill and lea,_

_Then my love shall wake again, _

_And dance on daddy's knee._

_Hush my babe, my little one,  
Thy father sails the deep,  
But warm thy bed is pretty one,  
lie still my dear and sleep.  
_

0 0 0

Author's Note: Thus begins the story of Lord Bern and how he came to remain on the Lone Isles.

I apologise if the first chapter is a little slow but I am trying to build up an image of my main characters and the culture of the different islands.

Lord Bern has always fascinated me as a character and I found myself wondering why he stayed on the Lone Islands rather than continuing on with the other six lords. I also wanted to explore the characters of the different lords and maybe the connection that each of their fates shows about their personalities.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this exploration of island life and adventure that is about to take place!

If the characters are confusing, here is a family tree to help with names:

Beecham Estate (on Doorn)

Lord Sedrydon

Lady Lorelei

Four Children:

Marcus (19)

Rhillayn (16)

Nyrra (14)

Simeon (4)

Bernfield Manor (on Avra)

Lord Edred (brother of Lord Sedrydon) – dead

Mirium (16)

Sedryn (15)

Thank you for reading, all feedback is very gratefully received (and hopefully responded to!)!

Breeze.


	2. The First Taint

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea 

Chapter 2 – The First Taint

As soon as he had seen his seneschal's face, Lord Sedrydon of Beecham had known that there was something gravely wrong. In thirty six years of service, he had come to read Gelver's face as easily as any in his family. The man now stood before him, ashen-faced and for the first time in Sedrydon's recollection, looking his sixty four years.

"What is it Gelver? What has happened?"

The seneschal regarded his liege lord grimly. "We have received reports that a third person has gone missing, my lord."

"Is it absolutely certain? Has a full search been done?" Sedrydon's throat was dry as he forced out the last question. "Who is it?"

"Edgar of Brook Farm, my lord."

Hardly daring to speak, the lord pictured the boy he had known from a child in his mind - strong, brave and his father's right hand on the farm. His was the third disappearance in a fortnight and seemed to show the start of an alarming pattern.

"When was he last seen?"

"The night before last, my lord. He went out to check on the ewes in their western pasture and did not return. His mother is beside herself."

"As are we all, Gelver. These are no random disappearances. First there was Ralph of Highbury, then Luke Blacksmith and now Edgar? I am beginning to think that there is a darker power at work here beyond mere chance. I must consult with the council."

"But the next council meeting is still a week away, my Lord Sedrydon, what if others are lost before that time?" It was a sign of the level of Gelver's concern that he dared to countermand the decision of Sedrydon, but the very fact that he did made up his lord's mind.

"You are right. Have my horse brought to me instantly and send a rider to have my ship readied for immediate departure. I will travel to Doorn to consult directly with Governor Gumpas about this, protocol be damned. Lives might be lost if I delay."

With a brief bow, Gelver departed to see about his orders, leaving Sedrydon feeling worryingly nervous about what these disappearances might portend. He headed immediately to the training ground to find his eldest son and determine his opinion.

When he did arrive, it was to witness an impressive training bout between Master Anfull and Marcus. In what almost appeared a dance they were working through a series of fighting manoeuvres, each carefully sussing out the other's movements. It was a sight that ordinarily would have been very pleasurable for Sedrydon to watch, but now the immediacy of their departure required him to interrupt.

"I apologise for the disruption, Master Anfull, but I must speak with Marcus upon an urgent matter." The old sword master nodded wordlessly, simply bowing to his lord before turning to other students who were near.

Marcus quickly approached, his expression questioning. "What is it Father?"

"Gelver brought word of another disappearance; Edgar of Brook Farm has also been reported missing."

Marcus frowned. "But that's the third in ..."

"Two weeks, I know. A more sinister motive must be behind these vanishings than mere happenstance. These are not men who would just walk away from their lives and responsibilities. Ralph of Highbury has a young family, Luke Blacksmith has spent years saving up to buy his forge and Edgar stood to inherit his father's farm. "

"What do you think is behind them, Father?"

"I have a suspicion Marcus, but I do not even wish to consider its possibility."

"What do you fear, sir?"

Lord Sedrydon leant heavily upon one of the fences that surrounded the practise ring. "I will tell you on the journey to Narrowhaven. But right now you must hurry and change Marcus; I aim to leave within the hour. We are going to see His Sufficiency the Governor."

Without questioning his father further Marcus departed to change, leaving Sedrydon to dwell upon that which he most feared.

0 0 0

As far back as any had been able to remember, the sea had been a thing of fascination for the Telmarine people. Just as the dark and enclosed spaces of the forests had led to stories and tales of haunting and dreadful deaths at the hands of ravenous beasts; the open, endless beauty of the sea had been seen as a body of infinite wealth and possibility.

As boys every young Telmarine lord had grown with a sense of excitement, and a longing for adventure and intrigue. Thus for many, a voyage at sea had encapsulated that long held desire.

It was a longing that had led Bern, just like his six companions, to willingly accept the quest that Lord Miraz had suggested.

So their journey had begun. First journeying on the _Sea Falcon _to the warm and verdant Galma, an island that had held a great feast in their honour and provided such diversion in the shape of tournaments and hunts that it had been a full six days before the lords had departed (much to the disappointment of Revilian). From thence they had enjoyed a brisk wind and only three day's sailing before they came within sight of Terebinthia's shores. Although still made welcome, there had been a strange feeling upon the island. Rhoop had spoken of an ill-feeling he had experienced, though he had been little able to explain it and Bern was still puzzling over the sensation. There had been something in the king's eye that had could have been alarm. His laughter had been forced and stilted and in all honesty, it had been a relief to depart from the tense atmosphere of the Terebinthian court.

But now they were seven days away from Terebinthia and the _Falcon_ was starting to feel just a little claustrophobic to a lord who had always enjoyed the sensation of a long, unbroken gallop across the Narnian plains. By way of distraction, Bern turned his eyes from the endless expanse of azure water to witness the diversion of daily struggles aboard ship.

It seemed that Mavramorn had chosen this moment to again enquire of Captain Eylon about the state of their supplies. He had always loved fine victuals, and had therefore taken it upon himself to oversee the stocking of the ship's supplies from Galma and Terebinthia. But he had yet to understand the need there was for more durable food stuffs over the perishable. The result had been a rather explosive argument with the captain about the quantity of items that could be purchased from Terebinthia's excellent bakeries. It was a topic upon which Mavramorn would endlessly rant (if there was an available ear to hand).

"Captain, are you certain that we cannot have a larger ration of fresh bread?" Mavramorn was pressing. "You see I have been studying the charts and they predict that we will be within sight of the Lone Islands in a day at the most."

Captain Eylon lowered his telescope to take in an exasperated breath. "As I have told your lordship on previous occasions, we cannot know what the weather may do in the next 24 hours. Therefore we must be cautious with the supplies. If the wind drops to a calm we will have three days' rowing ahead of us."

"But why should you have such a pessimistic view of the weather, captain? The first mate himself told me that we have had a steady wind these past four weeks."

"Indeed we have your lordship," Eylon replied through gritted teeth. "But the sea is an unpredictable mistress; we must be ready for anything she might throw at us."

With a smile Bern turned from this conversation to stare once more out over the endless water, searching for some sight of the long expected Lone Islands. He nodded at the approach of his youngest companion, a brave and slightly idealist Telmarine named Argoz.

"Another perfect day's sailing Bern, we are fortunate to be so blessed in our quest."

"Indeed we are. I have been told that the weather is unusually warm for mid-Spring," Bern replied. "Tell me Argoz, what did you think about the atmosphere upon Terebinthia?"

"It was slightly strange, was it not?" remarked Argoz, "it seemed at times that they were waiting for something to happen. I almost felt as though they expected us to attack them or force some great evil upon their community."

"I to felt it and have stood here trying to understand it. Why should the Terebinthians fear us?"

"Perhaps fear of the unknown? It has been many years since there was a visit of State to the island, maybe they thought we were there to collect unpaid taxes."

"Possibly, but I felt there was something more sinister at work in that court."

Argoz laughed. "You are too suspicious, Bern. You go looking for deception and intrigue where there is none. I believe I am right and that they simply were fearful of our reaction to their debt. No doubt our visit will speed along their next payment to Lord Miraz."

Bern nodded, although he was not entirely convinced.

"Sail over the port bow!"

Bern and Argoz quickly moved to the port side, gazing at the speck of white upon the horizon. They were soon joined by Mavramorn and Captain Eylon.

"Is it a merchant craft?" Mavramorn suggested.

"Not sailing under colours?" the captain queried, studying the ship carefully through his telescope. "I think not my lord."

"What of a fishing sloop?" Argoz suggested. "I have heard that these are the fishing grounds off Doorn and Felimath."

"It is possible; my lord Argoz, but there is something about her that don't feel right to me."

"What captain?"

Eylon continued to look hard at the vessel, studying everything from the set of her sails to the chipped carving that formed her figurehead.

"Why would a ship be sailing in these waters without colours or any form of identification? You can see our standard as clear as a whistle, but this ship has no form of classification. I'd be expecting to see the orange and blue of the Lone Islands at the masthead, but there's nothing. In my mind she's up to no good."

"On course from Terebinthia would you think?" Bern questioned, also staring at the distant ship.

The captain nodded. "I imagine so, my lord and making use of the same wind as ourselves. I imagine we'll sight Doorn before the day is over."

"Where do we plan to land?"

"Well the plan was for Narrowhaven, my lord. But do you wish to change it?"

Bern frowned. "I am uncertain; I wish to speak with my fellows before a definite decision is made. Follow your old course unless told otherwise, captain."

Captain Eylon saluted, his eyes back on the sea as Bern moved to find the other lords.

0 0 0

The punishment for Mirium's recent behaviour had been swift and decisive. She was forbidden from leaving the manor and its gardens under any circumstances, until she had demonstrated what her aunt called 'ladylike' behaviour. She had also been asked to refrain from speaking to Simeon or any of the other squires, a request that had proven difficult and painful when her youngest cousin sought her out so frequently. In the end, she had been forced to seek sanctuary in the parlour - where under the hawk-like eye of her aunt, she would seek to perfect her sewing and jewellery making.

One of her few pleasures came in the shape of the daily dancing lesson, which allowed her to at least move at a quicker pace and occasionally bounce when her aunt was not looking. She and Nyra had developed a silly game, where they both saw how silly a gesture or action they could pull behind Lady Lorelei's back without being noticed. It had gone on for several days before Rhillayn had noticed and threatened to tell her mother if they did not immediately desist.

The past few weeks had also seen announcement of Rhillayn's engagement to Sir Lamarkan of Bernstead, a nephew of Governor Gumpas himself and heir to a sizable estate on the opposite shore of Avra to Bernfield (the estate Sedryn would finally inherit in four years). Since the announcement she had become far more serious and dignified in the role of a future 'lady of the manor' and had taken to handing out rather patronising advice, however well intentioned.

A day now seldom passed where Nyra and Mirium were not given these sagely words of wisdom by Rhillayn. More often than not, it was her cousin rather than sister who was thought to need the most help.

"Mirium, you really must try to define your curls more," she had said one morning as they sat in the parlour. "Gentlemen find a coiled spring far more attractive when a feathery wave."

"I thank you Rhillayn, but it is hard to define curls when your hair is naturally wavy," Mirium replied as calmly as she could. She saw Nyra's lips twitch and was hard-pressed not to grin.

"That is true," her cousin had answered. "Perhaps we could rag it tonight and see the results?"

"Does Sir Lamarken prefer a defined curl?" Nyra enquired.

Rhillayn had beamed. "Oh yes, Lamarken has often said that he loves my curls. He called me the fairest flower on Doorn yesterday, is he not terribly romantic?"

Mirium was forced to escape to the window to hide her smirk whilst Nyra nodded her agreement to Rhillayn's question.

It was only once her sister had left that she walked over to poke Mirium hard in the arm.

"You are awful!" she muttered, moving to sit next to her cousin in the window seat. You just left me to keep a straight face when Rhillayn was in full flow about Sir Lamarken."

Mirium laughed. "I am sorry, but you have much more control than I. You would be certain to respond properly."

Nyra smiled. "I know she does gush about him, but it is good to see her so happy at the prospect of her marriage."

Her cousin nodded. "It is true, though I do not think I personally would be so overjoyed."

Her friend shook her head. "But you are cut from a different cloth, Miri. Rhi and I have been brought up since birth by our mother to marry an eligible man and run an estate. Yours was spent on the back of a horse overseeing your father's lands. Do you not wish to be married?"

"Of course I do, but I simply wish to have someone a bit more ..." Mirium struggled to find the word.

Nyra looked at her knowingly. "A bit more like your brother or Marcus?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "I know Sir Lamarken is a good man and that it is an excellent match, but he's just so ... so staid."

Her cousin laughed. "What? You would like to marry a man who rides madly on a horse all day rather than sit quietly in his study?"

Mirium smiled. "I would just prefer to marry a man who takes enjoyment in the same things I do."

Nyra nodded. "Well at least we do not have to worry about that for some time."

Her cousin gladly agreed with her.

0 0 0

Dinner at Beecham had always been a somewhat formal affair, as convention dictated, although Lord Sedrydon rejected the huge banqueting table in favour of a smaller one when only family were present. It was around this that the women and Sedryn were just seating themselves, when he entered with Marcus striding at his side.

Instantly, they could all tell that something was wrong from his stance, but he did not speak his mind until the servants had laid the dishes for the first course and left the hall. Without preamble, Lady Lorelei turned to her husband,

"Sedrydon, what is it? There is something weighing heavily on your mind."

With a sigh, her husband put down his wine glass and forced himself to speak.

"Marcus and I have just returned from a meeting with his Sufficiency the Governor." The family all stared at him.

"But I thought there was to be no meeting until next week at the earliest, uncle," Mirium stated.

"Indeed there is not Mirium. But Gelver brought word to me this morning that Edgar of Brook Farm has also gone missing and he and I were of the same mind. We believe that these disappearances are not random."

"What do you think to do behind them, sir?" Sedryn asked.

Sedrydon took a long drink from his goblet before he eventually spoke. "Marcus and I went to Narrowhaven this very day to inform the Governor that we fear there are slavers abroad."

The reaction was immediate. Rhillayn and Lady Lorelei gasped. Mirium clutched her hands to her mouth and Nyra squeaked in fear.

"_Slavers?_" Lady Lorelei exclaimed, "are you absolutely sure, Sedrydon? What proof have you found?"

"I have nothing certain, my dear. But I always keep an ear to the ground in certain areas of the city, and an acquaintance has told me that there are those among our Calormen neighbours who have been enquiring about the availability of man power. Tarkhaan Panradin himself has complained to me about how the price of labour on the isles has risen in recent years."

"What did his Sufficiency say about this?" his wife enquired. "What is he going to do?"

Sedrydon sighed heavily. "What can he do, Lorelei? He cannot act unless he has definite proof of slavery and as yet I have no solid evidence. He has told me to be vigilant and listen for any further testimony. For now I will inform our tenants to be wary and spread the word across the isles."

The room was silent for a time as the truth of Sedrydon's words truly sunk in. Eventually, Nyra found the confidence to speak,

"But Father, is it absolutely certain? Could there not be another possible answer?"

Slowly, Sedrydon turned to his daughter and spoke gently. "I am afraid that it is Nyra. There is no other explanation that makes sense and I fear Doorn is not alone in this. I have heard disturbing reports about Avra and Felimath as well."

"But where are they being sold, uncle?" Mirium pressed, unable to stop herself.

Sedrydon was grave when he spoke. "Gelver and I believe that the most likely destination for such a vile trade would be Calormen, Mirium."

The rest of the meal passed away in relative silence as the family took in the reality of what had been said, each wondering what could be done. In the end, they each dispersed in different directions. Mirium sought shelter in her favourite reading corner and once there opened the window wide. From her vantage point, she was just able to see the moon above the great Eastern Ocean and found herself struggling. Above all things she loved the water for its wondrous beauty and the joy of sailing upon it. But yet, could others actually travel upon it carrying a _human_ cargo?

Horrified by the very thought, she pushed it aside for this night and allowed the moon and starlight to wash over. Silently, she tried to believe for one more evening that the world was still the place of pure wonder and security that it had been for her that morning.

0 0 0

Author's Note:

So we come to the start of the drama! I have chosen to make slavery a key part of this story because, having re-read _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ in careful detail, I was particularly struck by what a corrupt place particularly Narrowhaven was when Caspian X came to it with Lucy and Edmund. In the book Bern refers to how he 'loved a girl of these isles and felt he had had enough of the sea', which is so simply told, but when I started exploring the reality of what this step would have been like for Bern, I found it could not have been as easy as he spoke of it and it won't be!

When it came to characterising the lost lords, I thought that I would draw a characterisation from each of the islands that they (or their remains) were found on. For example, Mavramorn and Argoz were both found upon the island that held Aslan's Table and I have characterised Mavramorn as the lord who wished to 'sit down and end his days in peace' hence my justification for his love of fine vitals! Whereas I saw Argoz as a young and eager lord who would seek 'adventure after adventure' and wish to go on, even after all they had been through.

'Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea' is an old saying meaning caught between two evils, and I think it will come to have significance in more than one sense as the story progresses. I want to say a HUGE thanks to MCH and WillowDryad for reviewing my first chapter. It is always a risk choosing a little known character, but I hope the book enthusiasts will enjoy the exploration of life of the Lone Islands and the seven lost lords with me!

Also, I want to give a special thank you to WillowDryad who not only reviewed this chapter but went on to not only read but also review my other two Narnia one-shots. It was so kind of you!

Again, thank you for reading. I am hoping to update regularly over the Christmas holiday. All feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated!

Thanks again,

Breeze.


	3. The Lord from the Sea

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Chapter Three – The Lord from the Sea

The pale light of dawn softly filtered through the stained window of the squires' dormitory. Several boys lay upon straw pallets, their ages ranging anywhere from six up to about twelve or thirteen. It was a warm, stuffy chamber that smelled of a mixture of unwashed body and fresh straw.

In one corner a boy sat. Stout and big for his age, he had a mane of tangled dark hair and a dirty face that was about seven or eight years of age. A yellowing bruise was disappearing over his left eye and his nose was slightly bent, hinting at an old break that had healed crooked. Carefully, he was running a rusted knife over a stone time and time again, sharpening it to a keen edge, but being careful to remain quiet in his work.

He paused for a moment, waiting for the boy on the pallet next to him to roll over with a grunt. Grimly, he produced the knife once more and continued his work, driven by a strength that came from pure hatred. With each rubbing of the blade against the stone, he imagined the face of the one he loathed above all - the one who had denied him not only his inheritance but also his very identity.

Quietly, Straven of Narrowhaven returned his knife to its sheath and turned over on to his side, soon he'd get his revenge. He'd show them who was brave. He'd make that mouse realise who the true son of Lord Sedrydon of Beecham really was.

0 0 0

For a young child, Simeon was not good at coping with change.

On his fourth birthday he had been taken aside by his great father and told solemnly, man to man, that he was going to be beginning his time as a page. Not entirely understanding his father's words, Simeon had simply nodded and muttered a "yes sir" before being taken off to the stables to discover, (to his great delight and slight fear) his first ever pony.

Compared to other surprises, Tansy had been one that had delighted Simeon beyond anything he had ever known. A small and fuzzy dun; she had bright black eyes, a wide, stable back and a gentle nature. She was the perfect first mount for a tentative four year old and had become his closest confidant. Closer even than Mirium and Sedryn. The four year old told everything to his pony and in response she gave him love, warmth and devotion.

So when he was told by his mother that he was to stop running off to the beach, Tansy was the first creature that Simeon told. When Straven said something particularly cruel, he took a long time rubbing her down and combing out her shaggy mane. Most of all, when his Mama told him that Mirium would not be allowed to see as much of him, Simeon ran straight to Tansy and cried bitterly into her shoulder.

It was very difficult for a quiet four year old boy to understand why he was to be denied the company of one of the only people in the world who openly sought him out and showed him that they cared. Simeon did not doubt his family's love, on the contrary, he knew how much his mother and father loved him. But of all those he knew, it was Mirium and Sedryn who took the time to listen and ease his childish fears and concerns. It was they who knew the extent of his fear towards Straven.

In the absence of his cousins' company, Simeon had taken to coming out to the stables earlier and earlier each morning, where he would spend endless hours talking to, feeding and grooming Tansy. He had also been making steady progress in befriending a wary stable cat (that he had named Evra) who last week would not have even looked at him but was now willing to approach and eat a scrap of meat from his hand.

It was on one such morning that Simeon had just finished rubbing down Tansy's left flank and was cleaning the brush, when he felt a nudge at his leg. In surprise, he looked down to find Evra looking up at him with plaintive yellow eyes. Up close he was not the most beautiful creature, with a mud brown coat that had patches of black across his back. But to Simeon he was another warm, breathing creature that was looking for companionship; so he gladly gave it and fished in his pocket for the scrap of dried meat he had saved.

Instead of taking it quickly and running away as he usually did, Evra instead took it delicately from the proffered hand and remained close to Simeon, even starting to wash behind his ears. Feeling oddly content, Simeon sat down on the pile of fresh straw and watched the cat wash as Tansy pulled quietly at her hay bale.

He was just about to dare a stroke of Evra's head when a sneering voice cut through the peace. "Are these the only friends you can find, _mouse_?"

Instantly, Simeon was on his feet, flinching away from the doorway where Straven stood smirking. He didn't speak but stood, rooted to the spot.

Straven's smirk widened to a cruel grin. "Can't find no-one to play with so you slink down like a slug to this stinking place every morning?"

Simeon felt himself flush. "Go away Straven, I can do what I want."

"No you can't mouse, I heard Lady Lorelei speaking to you the other day. They don't even trust you to go the beach anymore because you're such a baby. You aren't even allowed to see your stupid cousin anymore because she's got to be a lady and can't have sniveling babies weeping on her gown."

Unbidden, Simeon felt tears coming to his eyes as the older boy took a step towards him. Straven laughed maliciously. "Aw, is the little baby going to cry because he can't stand up for himself?"

Unsure where it came from, Simeon found himself saying, "Shut up, Straven! I'm not a mouse; Mirium says I'm going to be a great warrior some day, so there!"

Now it was Straven's turn to flush slightly. He took another step towards Simeon. "Of course she would. Everyone knows that Mirium wants to be a warrior herself and of course she thinks you will. Got everything haven't you mouse, a brave father and a brilliant older brother? But what do I have? No Father and a great man's pity. Well I'm not the one he should be pitying." Straven's voice was now so loud that he was near to shouting.

In his anger he had been getting closer to Simeon and came to a stop only a few paces away.

"Don't come anywhere near me or I'll shout out!" Simeon stuttered, frightened by the wild expression on Straven's face. "I'll call Master Anfull."

Straven's voice fell to a dangerous whisper. "Master Anfull isn't anywhere near here, he's at early morning training."

Terrified, Simeon watched as Straven pulled out the rusted dagger and pointed it at him.

"You're going to learn a lesson, mouse," he said quietly. "You don't deserve to be Lord Sedrydon's son, _I_ should be his son. I should be Marcus' brother and be training to be a knight."

Backed up against the wall, Simeon screamed as he felt Straven's hot breath against his face. Then, he was suddenly gone.

"Get away from my cousin, you coward!"

In amazement, Simeon opened his eyes to see Mirium grappling with Straven and attempting to force the knife out of his hand. Straven was fighting like a monkey against her hold. They wrestled for about a minute before Mirium finally managed to send the knife spinning to the floor.

"_Mirium?_" They all spun around to see Marcus and and Lady Lorelei standing in the door of the stable staring at the three of them.

Without thinking, Simeon ran and flung himself into Mirium's arms, his sobs wildly racking his small body. Slowly she hoisted him up into her arms and held him whilst he howled, before turning slowly to her aunt.

"Mirium, what happened here?" Lady Lorelei demanded, "And kindly put my youngest son down."

"In this state, aunt?" Mirium stated in disbelief.

"Simeon has to learn that life gives such experiences and he must learn to stand up for himself."

"I saw that boy pull a knife on Simeon unprovoked!" Mirium exclaimed. "He had every right to be frightened when he has been threatened and told that he is not worthy to be his father's son."

"Do you dare to question me on the raising of my child?" Lady Lorelei cried. "You who know nothing of motherhood?"

"I know enough to not ignore a cry for help. Simeon has been bullied and affected by Straven for weeks now but he has only found the strength to tell myself and Straven, now this has happened."

There was a moment of sudden silence, save only for the heavy breathing of Straven and the occasional hiccupping sob from Simeon. Eventually, Lady Lorelei spoke.

"That is enough Mirium. I will not be spoken to in such a manner by one who knows nothing of raising a child and even less about behaving like an adult. When you feel ready to apologise I will be in the parlour. Now kindly put my son down."

Silently, Mirium put the shuddering Simeon down and started towards the door, her cheeks flushed a vivid scarlet.

"As for your two, I will ask Master Anfull to investigate this matter in its entirety and if you are found to have threatened my son Straven, then your future in this household will be cast into severe doubt. Marcus, take them to the training grounds if you please."

Without looking back, Mirium fled.

0 0 0

She ran. She kept on running. She gloried in the defiance of it, compared with the measured steps that a 'respectable lady' would take. With a wild relief she pulled the tight braids from her hair. Recklessly, she plummeted down the sides of the sand dunes, losing both slippers in the process and not caring to pick them up. She sprinted to the sea, purposefully splashing the skirts of her gown with the salt water.

A strange elation filled Mirium's heart at the feeling of that cold water against her bare feet and before she could even think about it, she plunged into the water fully clothed. Slowly, she lay back, allowing the waves to wash over her, soaking her dress and covering her hair with sand.

It was such a release, to simply lie here, irrespective of anything but the sensation of the cool water against her fevered skin. The long days of imprisonment and her inner anguish seemed to float away for a time with the waves, allowing her this rare moment of escape.

Pensively, she thought of the state her hair would be in when she returned to the manor, after all the care of Helda that morning. She knew that her dress would be stained and possibly ruined by the salt water. Slowly, she sat up and lifted the skirt with her hand. The fine material was sodden, the delicate needlework darkened by the water and covered with sand.

Mirium frowned. She knew that she should care about the state that her gown was in. She should be concerned about propriety, about her style of dress and the quality of her conversation. But no matter how hard she tried, she found that she couldn't. The past few weeks had seen her greatest ever attempts to comply with her aunt's will, but the episode with Simeon and Straven had pushed her over the edge. Now, more than ever she longed to escape and return to a world that she understood.

Almost unwillingly, she found herself remembering Nyra's words. She sighed. She knew that Aunt Lorelei was no evil witch as she would have imagined as a child. No, she could see the love and misdirection that lay behind every reprimand and chastisement that her aunt gave. In her constant attempts to reform her niece, she was trying to prepare her for life as a wife, to help her find the best chance of marrying well. The only problem was - she didn't want it.

Even worse to Mirium was the fact that her aunt wouldn't even try to understand her niece's nature. Instead of listening to her explanation about the incident, she had jumped straight to the conclusion that she was trying to cause a problem on purpose. She hadn't even wanted to consider the fact that her youngest son was being bullied and hurt by his companions.

She drew up her knees to rest her chin upon them, oblivious to the continual movement of the water around her. Unbidden, the image of Sir Lamarkan filled her mind and she instantly found herself repelled from the pale, languid expression of his face. He seemed so unemotional, so vague, so … colourless. Yet, Rhillayn was delighted about the match. She was even excited by the prospect of marrying him.

Mirium shuddered. The thought of being married to such a man filled her with the greatest dread, and yet – had she finally sealed her own fate with her outrageous behaviour?

Reluctant to consider the thought, Mirium pulled herself up and immediately took in the state of her dress. It was ruined. With regret she considered what she had done and felt the first prickling of shame. How could her actions enable her aunt and uncle to treat her as anything but the ridiculous child she was?

Suddenly, another thought struck her and she spun around. How thoughtless could she be, to run wildly on to this beach without remembering the very real danger of slavers? She was about to run back towards the manor, when she saw something or someone in the corner of her eye. Slowly she turned and took him in.

A tall, lean man stood about twenty yards away from her, with a bearing that proved him to be no slaver or pirate. The tanned, rugged face held a wary but almost awe-filled expression. His dark hair and beard were windswept but neatly trimmed, and silver glinted upon the buckle of his belt and sword handle. He was dressed in practical but well cut clothes of the Telmarine style and of good quality fabric.

Not knowing what to say to such a stranger and in such a state, Mirium decided to remain silent and felt a blush gradually staining her cheeks. In embarrassment she kept her eyes downcast until he finally decided to speak.

"Are you maiden or sea nymph? I have been trying to decide for the past several minutes."

His voice surprised her in its warmth and vibrancy, lacking the slight accent she had come to expect from foreigners.

Hesitantly, he took a step towards her. "Will you not answer me? Please disperse this allusion and show me what you truly are."

Caught utterly off guard, Mirium could not help giggling at the sheer absurdity of the statement.

He smiled, seeming relieved. "Well my ears prove to me you are no apparition."

Despite her appearance, she forced herself to speak. "I assure you, my lord, I am no phantom. I am as real as you, though you might not believe me to be a lady of breeding." In chagrin, she felt her flush deepen and wished she could escape.

Bern shook his head, hardly able to believe what he had witnessed in the past few seconds. Slightly baffled, he tried to gentle his voice to ease her discomfort.

"I believe any would know you to be a lady from your tone of voice and manner of dress, my lady," he stated before adding, "however sodden its appearance." This last comment, purely meant to release the tension, actually coaxed a smile from his companion.

"I thank you for your words, my lord and can only apologise for my manner of receiving you. I was … not expecting company."

The manner in which she spoke, as though a grand lady entertaining a duke in her drawing room was too much for Bern and he burst out laughing. He was pleased to see that she too was grinning.

"And do you entertain many in this place ma'am?" he enquired pleasantly.

She shrugged carelessly in response. "It depends upon whether I find them diverting enough, my lord."

"So it is common practice for noble born ladies of the Lone Isles to bathe fully clothed in mid spring?"

Mirium felt her playfulness suddenly leaving her as she turned away from the lord, forcing herself to remember how she should act. Was she not the niece of Lord Sedrydon? What did it say of her, if she would flirt shamelessly with some unknown lord upon their first unchaperoned meeting?

Slowly, she turned to face him, but this time with a more controlled expression.

"I must apologise for not introducing myself sooner, my lord. I am Lady Mirium of Bernfield upon Avra. My uncle, Lord Sedrydon of Beecham owns this land and the hall is just behind these trees if you would like to meet him."

Struck by how quickly her manner had changed, Bern bowed deeply and gently kissed her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mirium. I am Lord Bern of Narnia; one of seven lords who have been sent by Lord Miraz to explore what lies within the Great Eastern Ocean."

"Would you like to be brought to my uncle, Lord Bern?" Mirium enquired politely.

"I would indeed, I thank you. Several of my fellows are at this time being entertained by His Sufficiency the Governor. I myself left the entertainments to better acquaint myself with your beautiful island. This is how I came to be walking upon your uncle's beach."

She inclined her head by way of acknowledgement before turning to lead this stranger back towards the manor.

Perplexed for a second time, Bern followed the young woman towards the sand dunes, both intrigued and mystified by her.

0 0 0

Author's Note: Happy Christmas! It was my Mum's birthday on Christmas Eve so writing was rather difficult to fit in! I hope that you have all had a wonderful day whatever you have been doing.

To explain the role of the boys - I have modeled the social order at Beecham loosely on the system of squires, lords and ladies that existed in medieval Britain from 1100s – 1600s in Britain. Traditionally, young boys would be sent (or remain) within the manor of a lord to learn knighthood, sword fighting, courtly manners, etc. and it was seen as an education for boys of noble birth.

It is within this backdrop that I am trying to demonstrate Lady Lorelei's perspective to her youngest son and the expectation for him to "be a man" from a young age. This attitude to treating young children as smaller adults was a common habit in Britain until about the 1890s, when the modern concept of protected childhood was actually personified in the writing of the Romantic poets such as Wordsworth and Blake. My reason for making Mirium's reaction different was because of her "less traditional" upbringing by her father and with no mother figure on her family's manor.

We finally have the meeting between Mirium and Bern! I like to think that we got a little glimpse of the 'real Mirium' in their little encounter before she remembered what her aunt had said. I'm afraid that the transition to being a 'suitable young woman' is not going to be an easy one for her, but we will get there eventually!

I just wanted to thank firstly L.A.H.H. for her review, because she has been a very consistent reviewer for a lot of my Narnian writing (including fics that have been removed), so thank you so much for reviewing this new attempt.

I also want to thank Starbrow for two thorough and very gratifying reviews because they analysed the writing which is very flattering and helpful, so thank you! In answer to your question, I have re-read VODT and the quest is not referred to as an exile, rather, Caspian refers to how Miraz sent them away to remove any who might be helpful to his nephew. Also you made a valid point about the Telmarine's not having a fleet, but I guess we'll just have to let me take some artistic license!

Again, thank you so much for your reviews, they mean so much to me and I will try to work out how to reply individually to them after this chapter!

Thanks again and Happy Christmas!

Breeze.


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